The Magician Soldier (1775) - Page 7

Mr. ARGANT.

With me? She is there as little as she can be; I am a Devil in her eyes.

CRISPIN.

Heh! heh! you act enough like one for that to be true.

Mr. ARGANT.

What do you mean?

CRISPIN.

Your Spouse among us

Deserves a milder fate;

You show her, Monsieur,

Too much rigor.

You fight all her desires,

You prune all her pleasures,

Always grumbling morning and night;

Does she want white, you want black,

The poor woman is painful to see;

But fear her despair.

Mr. ARGANT.

What do you mean by that?

CRISPIN.

Here, Monsieur.

A woman who is offended,

Thinks of vengeance;

A woman who is offended

Gets her revenge in the end.

The shrewdest husband

Wants to fight in vain

Against his cursed Destiny.

By his distrust

Of the misfortunes he fears so much,

He hastens the moment.

Gallants,

Seducers,

Whisper sweet nothings to her;

The little hen a nickname for a woman